


The World Is Still Going Insane

by Tenukii



Category: Hellsing, Twin Peaks
Genre: F/M, Historical References, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Pre-Canon, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me-Related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-31 04:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenukii/pseuds/Tenukii
Summary: Alucard had been to South America before; Integra knew as much from her father’s journals.  With Alucard on the mission to Rio de Janeiro, Integra reads of the monster he found in Buenos Aires back in 1946, and Alucard recalls the horror which surpassed his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the manga dialogue I quote comes from the Dark Horse translation, with changes where I liked the old scanlations better. Apologies for any historical inaccuracies.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you  
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;  
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend  
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

-John Donne, “Holy Sonnet #14”

\--

**London, England  
1999**

Alucard had been to South America before.  Integra knew as much from her father’s journals, which Walter had presented to her on her eighteenth birthday.  She did not read them immediately, although the temptation was there every time she glanced at the leather-bound notebooks.  They held the last vestiges of the father she had never truly known.

Yet even at eighteen, Integra held remarkable self-restraint, and she did not devour them all at once.  Instead, she chose to read entries only when situations to which they were pertinent arose.  Integra did read certain portions that very night—the earliest entries, in which Sir Arthur Hellsing described his confirmation as the leader of the Hellsing Organization, and his inheritance of the servant he called only “Alucard.”

Sir Arthur’s daughter might have read those first descriptions of Alucard more than once, and her breath and heartbeat might have come a bit faster each time she did so.  But she stopped there.  Someday the time would be right to read the rest of the journals, up to the last where perhaps Sir Arthur had recorded his plans and hopes for Integra’s future as the head of Hellsing. . . and as the master of Alucard.

Now, with Alucard, the police girl, and Captain Bernadotte _en route_ to Rio de Janeiro, Integra decided a journal-reading situation had arisen.  Sir Arthur had written out a rough index to each volume, and she used it to find the entries he’d penned about Alucard’s mission to South America.  Integra could have guessed the date even without the index—1946, just after the end of the war.  She could have guessed the purpose of the mission, too.  Alucard had gone to Buenos Aires, Argentina, hunting not for vampires but for escaped Nazis.

Integra passed the tense hours of waiting by reading about how her father had ordered Alucard to pursue members of a Nazi organization, who had fled to Argentina and been welcomed by newly-elected president Juan Perón with open arms.  At first, Integra was no more or less intrigued by these journal entries than by any others.  However, she was surprised to learn that Alucard had failed to track down any of his quarry; then she was almost frightened when she read an aside from her father, who otherwise related events in a straightforward manner:

_I pause here, for I do not know how to describe what A. did find there, when he came to the city of Buenos Aires just before returning to London.  Buenos Aires—good air, pure air. . . from pure air, a horror descended, a horror even greater than Alucard!  Of course, I did not see it myself, and A. refused to speak of it again, once he had filed his official report.  I believe he’s embarrassed to be outdone, and arrogant bastard that he is, he pretends it did not happen._

Integra paused as well to ponder the strangeness of it all.  Her father shrinking back from _anything_ , much less something he never even saw for himself. . . and Alucard meeting his match.  Still, the ghost of a smile crossed her lips at Sir Arthur’s assessment of his servant’s behavior.  The “arrogant bastard” refusing to speak of his failures—she knew that behavior well.

She began to read once more and did not stop until she came to the end of the entry several pages later.  Then Sir Integra Hellsing sat back in her father’s chair and stared at the phone sitting silently on his desk.  How much longer until Alucard and the others reached Rio de Janeiro?  How long after that until he called to report his success—or his failure?

 _How long until I know he’s all right?_ she wondered.  Alucard would be a thousand miles away from Buenos Aires, but even a thousand miles wasn’t enough if her father had written the truth.

\--

**Rio de Janeiro  
1999**

After he had destroyed the hapless humans sent into the hotel to kill him, Alucard called Integra’s direct telephone line.  She answered quickly.

“Who is this?” Integra demanded.  “Foe?  Friend?”

“It’s your servant, Integra,” he purred.  Whether that meant foe or friend, he left for her to decide.  “Orders. . . give me your orders.  My _Master_.”

“Alucard!  Explain—explain the situation,” stammered Integra.  He heard fear in her voice, and he knew she knew what had happened.  He knew she was stalling.  He’d wanted better from her, but she was still only human.  Even the police girl had had such doubts, and _she_ was turned.  Alucard reminded himself not to expect perfection from his Master, although she exhibited it nine times out of ten.

He told her, “As you no doubt know, immediately following our arrival at the hotel, we were besieged.  Their reach extends further than we thought.  Our moves are being read.  A specialized police unit attempted an infiltration just now.”

When Alucard stopped speaking and did not continue, Integra ventured, “So. . . what happened?”

“I killed them.  I _exterminated_ them.  Down to the last man.”  He smiled into the phone and repeated, “Now, Integra, give me your orders.”

He waited, but she did not speak.  He pictured her staring down at the phone, or at Walter, as if either would tell her what to say.  Neither would, so Alucard began talking again, drawing out the response he wanted from her.

“The higher-ups of the police force are probably controlled by them.  However, the ones who were just following their orders to break in here. . . the ones I killed and will try to kill again are just typical ignorant humans.  I can kill them.  I can massacre them without even a bit of hesitation, an ounce of regret.  Because _I_ am a _monster_.”  Alucard paused and thought of her, imagined how her face must look just then, before he finished: “What about _you_. . . Integra?”

Still, she said nothing.

Alucard spoke faster with urgent need, “I will wield the gun.  I will also determine its aim.  I will put the ammo in the magazine, pull the slide, even undo the safety.  But what will kill them is _your_ intent.  So, _what_ are my orders?!  _Hellsing Director Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing!_ ”

He waited again, with nothing else left to say.  His Master so rarely disappointed him, yet her silence troubled him.  Something was different, something had frightened her and made her hesitate.  Maybe this time, she’d fail.  Maybe this time, his marble idol would crack and crumble under the pressure of human bodies slaughtered and human souls set free, all by her order—all in her name.

Still, she said nothing—to Alucard, at least.  He heard her voice muffled by distance, asking Walter for a cigar; heard their footsteps and the rumble of Walter’s reply.  Alucard closed his eyes and pictured her holding the cigar lightly between her white teeth, pointed downward and resting against her lower lip.  He could see it trembling with her nerves, trembling in her untouched mouth between her beautiful, untouched lips; and that almost turned him on as much as when he pictured her biting down a second later.

But then he heard the slap of her gloved hands smacking down on her desk, and that got to him even more.

“Do not toy with me, servant!” Integra bellowed over the phone.  “I’ve _given_ you your orders!  Nothing has changed!  Search and destroy!  _Search and destroy!_   Any force which hinders us is to be crushed underfoot!  Do not run or hide, but go and attack them head on!  All obstacles are to be reduced into dust and ash!”

Alucard cackled with pleased laughter.  She hadn’t cracked after all, and now she probably never would.

“Rogerrrrr,” he purred when he managed to stop laughing.  “Yes, _that’s_ the last fig leaf taken off!  How splendid!  It gives me a stirring in my loins, Integra!”

She did not have to reply for Alucard to imagine just how much he’d pissed her off, but that was what got him hard in the first place—not just that she had proven herself a true Hellsing, but that she’d gotten so _angry_ about it.  How _dare_ he think she might rescind her orders!  The marble idol hadn’t cracked, she had caught fire. . . and Alucard loved her best when she was burning.

“I’ll leave now.  Watch me closely, Sir Hellsing!”

\--

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

I, like an usurp'd town to another due,  
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;  
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,  
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.

-John Donne, “Holy Sonnet #14”

\--

**Buenos Aires  
1946**

Even back in 1946, the Palm Deluxe Hotel was not much different than the Hotel Rio would be when Alucard checked in fifty years later.  The clerk spoke Spanish instead of Portuguese, and the fashions were different, yet both hotels were still only posh facades erected for the sake of tourists.  Or Nazis.

At the Palm Deluxe, Alucard signed the register as “J. H. Brenner,” until the clerk interrupted him with polite insistence.

“Please, your Christian name too, sir.  I am sorry, it is a policy of the management.”

“My _Christian_ name.  Certainly,” Alucard rumbled with laughter as he wrote “Jonathan” beneath the “J,” on the next line.

“ _Gracias_ , Mr. Brenner,” effused the clerk.  “The bellhop will show you to your room.  I believe that your, ah, luggage has already arrived and is awaiting you.”

Alucard grinned as he swept into the elevator after the nervous bellhop, who cast quick glances up at him from time to time.  Management policies might require a full name upon registration, but they did not yet ban the shipment of large, heavy crates to guests’ rooms.  Traveling outside his coffin, rather than within it, was a necessity this time since Walter C. Dornez had not accompanied him on this particular mission. That meant more work on Alucard’s part, but he decided things were better this way.

_The butler’s been too quiet since Poland.  Too quiet and too unsure of himself,_ Alucard mused.  _Not such a cocky little brat anymore, that’s been nice, but this mission requires confidence.  Sir Arthur was wise to keep him back._   He chuckled to himself, earning him another frightened look from the bellhop, as he pondered this.  _Arthur Hellsing, behaving wisely.  Rationally.  Seems **that** boy’s finally growing up too!_

When they reached Alucard’s room, the bellhop showed it off with a brusqueness born of the keen desire to escape his guest’s presence.  Alucard let him do so, then relished the luxurious privacy when the bellhop had gone.

“Much better quarters than your basement, Master,” he crowed.  “You should take better care than to remind me what it’s like to live in opulence.  I’ll come back to you spoiled!”  An empty threat, really, since Alucard had little time to enjoy this opulence: he had too much to do.

Even though Alucard had been certain he and Walter completely razed the Millennium Organization in Poland, Sir Hellsing had recently gotten intelligence suggesting the group had fled to South America alongside many other escaped Nazis.  He took little time to hesitate before dispatching Alucard on a new mission to investigate the rumors—and to do in Argentina what he failed to do in Poland, if the rumors were true.

_Search and destroy, Alucard!  Release the Control Art Restriction System as needed from levels eight to one._

_And Level Zero, my Master?_   He knew that his grin unnerved Sir Arthur, and that only made him smile the wider.

_You have your orders, servant._   Said with that curious resentment this particular member of the Hellsing family held for him.  So here he was in Buenos Aires, that country of pure air by the open sea he hated, searching for those who’d run from death.  Now death had come after them.

But there was a new quarry as well, according to Sir Hellsing’s intelligence.  A woman, one of Alucard’s own kind—a true vampire, as powerful as Alucard himself, helping them in their mad research.  _Is it **She**?_ Alucard had wondered, hating the feelings of hope and longing which rose in his withered heart.  _Has She risen again?_

They called this one _Judy_ , though.  A strange name for a Nazi ally—the pet form of Judith, a Hebrew name.  A Jew name.  But then, the Millennium Organization might not care about racial purity so much as they did their research, and anyway, experimentation upon the Jewish was nothing new for their kind.

And maybe Judy wasn’t the vampire’s real name at all.

Alucard didn’t care who or what she was, if she was not Mina.  He looked forward to finding her, all the same, because he craved an opponent worthy of his time.  _And there is a full moon tonight,_ he thought with a glance toward the curtained window, through which the sun still shone.  _It’s going to be a lovely night._

He started for his coffin with the intention of resting until dark, but something lying on the nightstand beside the bed caught his attention.  A playing card.  Alucard frowned as he picked it up between his gloved fingers and flipped it over.  The back was printed with an ordinary pattern in blue, yet the front—that was unusual.

“The ace of spades,” muttered Alucard.  Instead of a spade, though, the design in the center of the card was some kind of symbol: a rough-edged black circle with two bent lines extending from either side.  It looked like the silhouetted head of an insect with crooked antennae.

With a snorted “Hmph!” Alucard flicked the ace back on the table.  Although he did not recognize the symbol, he still understood the message.  _We see you.  We know you’re here._   So Millennium had their intelligence about Hellsing’s movements, too.  Big deal.

Nevertheless, Alucard glanced around the room more carefully and spotted something else, some damage to the wall behind the lamp on that same nightstand.  He nudged the lamp aside and actually blinked in surprise to see something carved into the wall.  Five letters: _J O U D Y_.

He sounded out the word, if a word it was, under his breath, “Jowdy.  Or _Judy_.  Ha!”  His lips parted in a wide grin which showed his sharp teeth.  The woman vampire’s name had been carved deep and rough, _gouged_ really, as if by a hand gripping a knife tightly in fear.  Not just a message that they saw him, then, but a warning that they saw him, and he should be afraid.

Alucard threw his head back and cackled with delight.  It _would_ be a lovely night, indeed.

\--

**Santa Rosa  
1999**

Alucard, Victoria, and Bernadotte fled from Rio to Santa Rosa, a town across Guanabara Bay, where they holed up in one of those cheap motels Bernadotte hated.  After he sent the police girl and the captain out to search for transportation home, Alucard called Integra.  She all but screamed his name into the phone.

“ _Alucard?!_ ”  When he confirmed it, she demanded, “Where are you?!”

“Santa Rosa—little place across the bay from Rio,” Alucard told her.  “I’ve accomplished my mission, my Master.  I’ve carved what they’re thinking into my brain.”  He smiled, remembering how Tubalcaine Alhambra had brandished the ace of spades between two fingers.  The death card with its razor’s edge—but it was only an ordinary ace for all of that, and the man who wielded it only a pathetic artificial vampire.

A pause, a whisper of his Master’s breath indrawn, then her judgment: “Well done.”

“Yes,” he hissed, but Integra’s voice grew terse.

“Return immediately.  I expect a formal report.”

“Oh?  Sounds like the Round Table’s pressuring you,” Alucard observed.

Integra muttered, “I wish.  It’s a direct order from higher up.”

“‘Higher up’?  Meaning. . . ?”

“From her majesty herself.  _She’s_ called the council together.”  Integra said it with that slight flair for the dramatic she still had, and Alucard laughed.

“Hah!  The _queen_!”  As he’d hoped, his attitude enflamed her.

“You think this is a laughing matter?  You’re mistaken.  Get out of there and return immediately.  Do not make her wait!” Integra snarled.  “And Section XIII is moving as well!  I don’t want them to get ahead!”

“Yeah,” Alucard confirmed; then he switched the phone to his other hand and purred, “By the way, Integra, did you enjoy the battle?  Did it _excite_ you?  Were you able to see the flames, burning black and red?”  His words came out husky by the end.

Integra screeched, “Shut up, you bloody idiot!  None of your business!”  By the pitch and volume of her voice, Alucard knew she was furious.  How dare he, again?  None of his business if Sir Integra Hellsing might be learning to enjoy his carnage, and not his place to imply that Hellsing’s sacred virgin would ever get. . . _excited_.

“Get back here this instant, you _git!_ ” she shouted before slamming down her handset so hard, he heard it as a sharp crack.  Alucard began to laugh again as he thought to himself, _Surely, humans are **so** wonderfully complex._

\--

To be continued


End file.
